Chapter
Seven
Trixie was floating on the high that was all Cayden Russo. If she thought it couldn’t get any better than their private weekend, she had been wrong. Very, very wrong.
On Monday, he greeted her like they’d been apart for months. Arriving early enough to ensure they were alone, he laid her back across her desk and made love to her. Somehow her desk had become just as inclusive in their lovemaking as her bed.
On Tuesday, he brought her a flower. Not a bouquet, just one single stemmed rose. She knew he’d picked it from Peggy’s garden. She didn’t care, though. It was sweet and romantic, and she was basking in the attention.
On Wednesday, they ate lunch up on the roof. Just because they could. It gave a semblance of more privacy than her office where any of her employees could come knocking.
On Thursday, he brought her a chocolate bar. It took her half the day to figure out the significance of this. While she was a woman and chocolate was her kryptonite, she didn’t need that sort of comfort for another week. During their lunch break, Cayden explained that chocolate was now his kryptonite. All he had to do was look at a piece and he got hard because it reminded him of her eyes. After that reveal, they’d done it on her desk again.
When Friday finally rolled back around, Cayden brought his duffel directly to her apartment that morning.
It was a wonder they got any work done that week. The security company finally finished installing their cameras, motion sensors, and entry point sensors. Trixie was embarrassed to have never considered the fact that the roof of her showroom was glass. She’d put sensors on her large windows but had never thought of the roof before.
With most of the security concerns addressed, Cayden started helping out in the motor pool more. It was the week leading up to Fourth of July weekend, so they were overbooked and desperately needed the extra set of hands. True to his word, he was a gearhead through and through. He fit in with her and the other mechanics nicely and helped them easily with their workload. Cayden even had a few techniques and tricks that helped speed along some of the processes. Plus, watching him take apart an engine to find a loose valve and put it back together again had been hot. She’d barely been able to take her eyes off of him.
Their second weekend was just as special as their first. Cayden taught her things about her own body that she hadn’t even known. She wondered offhandedly if she should be concerned with how addictive his touch was. All he had to do was reach for her, and she melted.
On their third weekend together, to Trixie’s initial embarrassment, she learned that Cayden had no qualms with having period sex. They ended up taking multiple showers and had had to clean up a mess that mimicked a gruesome murder scene in her bedroom, but it had been worth it. She’d even gone online and researched menstrual cups that could be worn during sex. Cayden just shrugged it off and said he didn’t care either way. Not wanting to waste their precious time together, she put a pin in it for consideration later on.
It took some time for Trixie to work up the courage to ask him about blowjobs. He was lying, naked, on her bed with her pillow under his head. She’d gotten up to put some popcorn in the microwave for them.
Apparently, she’d been obvious about wanting to say something because he said, “Whatever it is, just say it. I can hear the gears in your head working from here.”
“I want to give you a blowjob!”
Her exclamation seemed to have shocked both of them. He sat up slowly on the bed, an odd look of excitement and worry on his face. Trixie groaned at her inability to be subtle. Popcorn forgotten, she approached the bed.
“Look, I know guys like it. I’ve certainly enjoyed you going down on me. I can’t guarantee I’ll be good at it. I’ve been watching porn all week to try to figure out the technique.” Her cheeks were hot enough to cook the kernels without the assistance of the microwave. “Then I realized I didn’t care how the guys in those videos liked it. I only care how you do. It’s not something you’ve ever asked to do, so I wasn’t sure if it was something you wanted to do. Then I realized I probably should ask you.” Meeting his eyes for the first time, she quickly ducked her head again. “So, will you teach me?”
The silence in the room was deafening. Trixie wanted to scream just to break it. She was already nervous about this topic. For him to hesitate—
Cayden quickly got off the bed and took her into his arms. He pressed his lips against her forehead. Trixie’s knees nearly gave out in relief; she hadn’t messed anything up with her question and rambling. “Do you have any idea how amazing you are? I am flattered beyond belief that you would spend your week watching porn just so you could learn how to give me a blowjob.” He shifted his hips. “Actually, flattered isn’t the right word. Turned on and horny. Those are better words. And a bit jealous I wasn’t here watching with you.”
She giggled. “I didn’t mean to blurt that part out.” She gripped his arm, feeling his hard muscles. “You like the way I taste, right? I mean,” her cheeks flamed, “you seem to.”
“Mmm…” he hummed in her ear. “Honey.”
“What?”
“You taste like honey.” His teeth against her ear lobe sent a shiver through her. His right hand trailed from between her breasts, down past her navel, and then cupped her sex. “You, my beautiful gearhead, are delicious.” He dipped a finger inside, making her legs quake. She gripped him tighter just to keep herself upright. “I can never get enough out of you.”
“I…” She struggled to keep her thoughts in order. His finger was picking up speed. “I want to try.”
She gasped when his finger suddenly left her. He brought it up to her lips, making her eyes go wide. She knew he’d purposefully mistook her words. She hadn’t wanted to try herself. She wanted to try him, taste him. But a part of her also knew that taking his finger wet with her pussy juices into her mouth would turn him on.
It was erotic. Dare she say, naughty.
Trixie flicked her tongue out, and in that moment, knew that Cayden hadn’t actually expected her to taste herself off his finger. He’d probably expected her to balk or correct his misassumption. Not allowing herself to look away from him, she ran her tongue up and down his finger before sucking it into her mouth.
He hissed. The fire behind his mismatched eyes made her tremble with excitement. She had gotten used to him being in control, leading their lovemaking. Right now, she felt like the one in control.
Suddenly he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced, a laugh escaping her. So apparently, she wasn’t that much in control. His tongue entered her mouth as he came down on top of her. She could feel his straining erection between her legs. When she felt him reach for the stash of condoms he kept in her pillowcase, she forced her mouth to separate from his.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “I want to—”
“Later,” he promised, ripping the packet open with his teeth. “I need you now.”
Her smile widened. She certainly wasn’t going to argue with that. Her body had grown used to his size, even craved the invasion. The way he stretched her made her feel like she had been created just for him. A perfect fit.
Trixie knew that was silly. It was a fleeting, romanticized thought. But just for a few moments, she wanted to believe it was true.
He entered her in a swift, single motion, causing her to gasp at the feel of her walls adjusting around him. She tightened her inner muscles, knowing how much he loved to feel her tighten around his cock. He ducked his head with a moan.
Taking him by surprise, Trixie bucked her hips and rolled them. She landed with her legs straddling his hips and him still inside her.
“Damn, baby, give a guy a little warning.” But she saw no anger in his eyes. Only lust and the promise of more.
Bending down to claim his lips, Trixie rolled her hips. He’d taught her that with her on top, she could take him into herself deeper. It made sense with the gravity assist.
Picking herself up, she laid her hands on his broad muscular chest and rode them to oblivion.
Things were perfect, so Cayden should have known better. After four fucking perfect and amazing weekends with Trixie, Cayden felt invincible. Nothing could touch him. Nothing could get him down. He was walking on water.
His time with Trixie was fabulous. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her, and she always seemed to surprise him. What woman admits she studied porn so she could learn how to give her man a blowjob? He felt like a million bucks. Mind, he always seemed to be too distracted with eating his way down her delectable body to give her the lessons she’d ask for, but neither seemed to be complaining.
Boosting cars had been about excelling. He’d loved the speed, loved the adrenaline rush. While the money was good, it had been about being better. And he had been. Three years ago, if someone needed a car off the streets, Carver, his Prez, sent Cayden to do it because he knew it would be done quick, clean, and accurately. He had an eye for spotting the bait cars too.
His time in prison had, if nothing else, given Cayden perspective. His life prior to his arrest had been about adrenaline and his need to be the best. His life now was completely the opposite, and yet Cayden felt no desire to return to his former ways. Being able to work on the exotics at Romero’s tempered his cravings to drive them. Did he wish he could take one around the block for a quick spin? Hell yeah, he did. But nothing, no desire, no temptation, no craving, would ever be worth the risk of separating himself from Trixie.
He couldn’t do that to her. She’d put her faith and body in his hands, and he hoped, her heart too. He would never take that for granted. She was his angel on his shoulder who’d zapped his devil away with a sway of her sassy hips and wicked tongue.
After five weeks of employment, he had the routines of Romero’s down. Cayden was a drifter. He worked where Trixie needed him to be, whether it was helping her in the office or out in the bay or detailing a ride. He loved it all. His parole prevented him from working on the sales floor, but Cayden had every intention of venturing out there once his term was up. No one knew cars like he did. Cayden even had a bet with one of the salesmen, Adam, that he could sell that Spyder on his first day on the floor. Adam didn’t know it was a parole term that kept Cayden from the floor. Most believed Cayden was just too busy being Trixie’s lackey to spend a day out there with the customers. Cayden never corrected the assumption, though the more time he spent with his co-workers, the guiltier he felt by allowing the misconception to stand.
But he couldn’t risk losing another job or Trixie because people had found out he was an ex-biker. He wanted them to treat him for the person he was now, Cayden 2.0, and not damn him for his past sins. If Trixie, wonderful and sexy Trixie, could see past his rap sheet, no one else mattered.
The Thursday before Trixie and Cayden’s fifth weekend together, he heard his name called over the radio. He was working on changing out a battery in an FX. Putting it down on the work bench, he answered the call.
“Cayden,” he recognized Joey’s, Trixie’s assistant, voice, “can you meet Terrance at the bay doors? I just took a call for a Rolls Royce with temperamental brakes. Owners are at a conference, so the driver is bringing it in for maintenance. Trixie wants it done today and said you were available.”
Cayden rolled his eyes. Rolls Royces were so overrated. The owners probably thought themselves very esteemed for that purchase. Still, he wasn’t about to let Trixie down. “Sure thing. Tell Terrance I’ll be down once I complete this ticket.” Glancing at the FX, he added, “Maybe five minutes?”
“Will do. Thanks.”
Cayden put the radio down and continued working. Once completed, he marked the ticket and logged it into the computer so the desk staff could call the owner. He pulled out an oiled rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands as he journeyed down to the first floor of the bay. Like a parking garage, all the cars had to be driven up to the second floor via the ramp he was now walking down. The large bay doors on the first floor were the only way into the motor pool from the outside. They were kept closed and locked unless the staff was bringing a vehicle in or out.
Cayden stepped out into the hot July sun through the open bay door. He saw Terrance standing with a clipboard, talking to the driver who was still in the car. The white Ghost with the distinctive RR on the front was waiting patiently. No matter if he thought the reputation of these vehicles was overrated, she still deserved his full attention.
Cayden stopped in his tracks as the driver got out, and he felt his heart plummet. “Bucky?”
The ginger man in question was short and stocky. He’d always worn large clothing to try to hide that he wasn’t muscular or tall. Cayden had known him since he was a thirteen-year-old punk living on the streets after his parents had kicked him out for being gay. While Cayden made it clear he didn’t swing that way, Bucky had always followed him around with wide doe-eyes. Loving the attention, Cayden had shown Bucky everything he knew.
Seven years later, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he was standing in the bay entry with a Rolls Royce.
Bucky had grown while Cayden had been away. Mind, he certainly wasn’t tall, but he’d filled out more. His bright red hair hung around his ears, whereas he’d always worn it long before. And he now had a Black Python prospect cut over his shoulders.
“Hey, man!” Even his voice had deepened. Cayden felt torn between wanting to learn everything he’d missed in Bucky’s life and telling the man to leave. Cayden couldn’t have someone, even one with a clean record, from his old life messing up his new one. Not even Bucky. “Treads said you were working here. I didn’t believe him. Had to come see it for myself.”
Bucky closed the door of the Royce and walked towards him. Terrance and his clipboard stood there shocked. Bucky held out his hand to Cayden.
Cayden though didn’t accept it. “You can’t be here.”
Bucky’s smile fell. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”
Cayden crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing anything, Buck. I’m out. I’m done with that life. Take your ride and go.”
Bucky looked as if Cayden had slapped him, but he couldn’t allow his old affection for the young man to weigh on him. Nothing could risk his parole. He needed to be free. He needed Trixie.
“Man, don’t tell me you’ve gone straight. Nah, not the great Boost.”
Cayden’s eyes flicked to Terrance. Bucky wasn’t keeping his voice down, and there was no way Terrance couldn’t hear him. He’d worry about that later.
“Bucky, you can’t be here. That car can’t be here.”
Rather than be deterred though, Bucky looked intrigued. “What are you running here?” His eyes flashed to the large building and the number of exotics exposed by the open bay door. “When Treads said you were working Romero’s, I knew you had to be pulling something big. Last job big.” His eyes glowed with excitement. “I want in, man.”
“There is nothing going on here, nothing big, and no last job,” Cayden defended. Of course, saying it out loud just made it sound like Cayden was protecting his score. Damn it. “And even if there was, you showing up like this and announcing yourself is just plain stupid. I taught you better than that. A Royce, really? Could you try to grab anything flashier?”
Bucky grinned widely. “I wanted to impress you. I know how you like your rides pristine.”
Cayden grabbed Bucky’s arm and dragged him back to the driver’s door. “Bucky, this is your one and only warning. Leave and don’t come back. Terrance, call the cops. Make sure you take a picture of the license plate for them too.”
Bucky snorted at his order. “The cops? Fuck, man, you really have gone to the Dark Side.”
Lowering his voice so only Bucky could hear, Cayden said, “Get in the fucking car and leave. This is your last chance. And you remind Carver that I’m out and done.”
“You tell Carver yourself,” Bucky snapped. “I’m not your bitch anymore.”
“No, you’re a grown-ass man still looking for your master’s approval.” Cayden knew the words would cut deep. Bucky was often the butt of the club brother’s jokes, calling him Cayden’s bitch. Of course, given Bucky’s open sexuality, there was more than one innuendo whenever the topic came up. Cayden had never cared about Bucky’s preferences. They’d always had a brotherly relationship. “Grow up, Buck. Take responsibility for yourself. Running with Carver will only get you killed or behind bars.” Not wanting to leave their years of friendship on such a sour note, Cayden added, “Only come back here if you’re willing to go straight. I’m out of that life, and I’m never going back. Not even for you.”
The sound of approaching sirens drew their attention.
Bucky let out a low laugh. “You know damn well there’s nothing straight about me, Boost.” Glancing towards the red and blue flashing lights, Buck just said, “Be seeing you,” before turning and running across the parking lot.
Terrance met the cops as they exited the vehicle, explaining that the driver had run “that way”. Cayden just shook his head. Even if they went after him right then, they weren’t going to catch him. Cayden had taught him more than just the art of boosting cars; he’d also taught Buck how to avoid getting caught.
Cayden let out a long sigh. Resting his forearms on the Royce, he dropped his head between his arms. Seeing Bucky again, damn. He didn’t know what to think.
A small hand rested on his shoulder, and Cayden could just feel all of his worries drift away. “I’m not going back to that life,” he told her without lifting his head. “I can’t, I won’t. You deserve better than that.”
“So do you,” she said softly. “Who was that?”
“Bucky,” Cayden told her honestly. “For lack of a better word, he was my protégé.”
“Is the car hot?”
Cayden nodded. “He was trying to impress me.”
There was a pause before she said, “The cops are talking to Terrance. We need to go over.”
Cayden let out a long sigh. “Terrance knows. There’s no way he didn’t hear the conversation.”
“I heard most of it too,” she told him, and he winced. He didn’t want Trix anywhere near that part of his past. “You handled yourself well. If you hadn’t told Terrance to call the cops, I would have.”
Cayden closed his eyes. “Please don’t hate me.”
He felt her warmth against his side. “Why would you say that? You didn’t steal the Royce.”
He shook his head. “I might as well have. He came here for me.”
“Cayden, look at me.” When he didn’t, she added, “Please.” Cayden gritted his teeth. Damn that word. He couldn’t resist her when she said it. He leaned his chin on his left forearm and looked at her. Her chocolate eyes were kind. She didn’t look angry in the least. “We need to go talk to the cops. Afterwards, you and I are going to have a talk about you taking responsibility for actions that aren’t yours.”
He had no choice but to nod. Looking over at where the two officers waited, he said, “Come with me?”
“Of course.”
He stood up straight and took her hand. Apparently today was the day for revealing secrets. He wasn’t letting go of her, making their relationship obvious to anyone looking.
Officers Wittman and Jackson extended their hands as Cayden introduced himself and Trixie. He made sure to point out that Trixie was the owner of Romero’s, not wanting the officers to assume he was. Cayden was also upfront about being on parole and gave the officers the numbers for Mr. Wynn and Mr. Jones.
Wittman stepped aside to call Mr. Wynn and Mr. Jones. Cayden was not happy about that but knew he had done nothing wrong. Jackson asked the standard questions before the biggest one Cayden had been dreading. “And why would Bucky bring the stolen vehicle here?”
“Because he likely believes I’m chopping here on the side.”
“Are you?”
Cayden’s eyes narrowed and his hand tightened around Trixie’s. “No.”
“Mr. Russo, with your record, you have to admit that it is suspicious for you to be working here.”
Trixie jumped in before Cayden could. “Mr. Russo is a valued employee here, Officer Jackson. He’s an exceptional employee.”
Jackson pointed his pen towards their entwined hands. “And I’m sure that has had no influence on your answer or perspective, Ms. Romero?”
“My perspective is crystal clear,” she snapped. Cayden gripped her hand in warning. “Regardless of my relationship with Mr. Russo, he works here legally and has never done anything to make me question my trust in him.”
“There’s nothing in my parole that states I can’t have a social life,” Cayden added before Trixie said anything else. Her words, though tense because of the situation, had made Cayden’s heart soar.
“No,” Jackson agreed, “but it might lessen the credibility of her testimony if she has to give one, either for or against you.”
Cayden’s back stiffened. “I am not the one who stole that car. I am the one who called you. I could have let Bucky just drive off with it, but instead, I did the right thing. I called the cops so that you could return the vehicle to its rightful owner. I am not under arrest so my relationship with Ms. Romero is none of your damn business and none of your concern.”
The heat he was feeling had nothing to do with the summer sun beating down on them. They were looking at him like he was still wearing his old cut.
He saw Mr. Wynn’s truck pull into the lot just then. Cayden wasn’t sure if he was happy to see the older man. The fact that he had to be called at all grated on Cayden. There was nothing like having to have one’s parents called to impress a girl. They only had to deal with this for eleven more weekends, and then they were responsible only to and for themselves.
Trixie smiled as Mr. Wynn approached, which lightened Cayden’s mood considerably.
Jackson and Wittman continued to question Cayden about Bucky. No matter how many times they asked the same question, Cayden provided them with the same answer. Bucky had brought the Royce to Romero’s believing that Cayden was running a job here, and he wanted in. They didn’t like that Cayden didn’t know Bucky’s last name, nor did they like that Cayden didn’t know where Bucky was currently living. They also weren’t happy that Cayden had let Bucky “just walk away”. They appeared to have no sympathy for the complicated position Bucky’s presence had put him in regarding his parole.
He did not tell them that Bucky was wearing a Black Python’s prospect cut.
They wasted most of the day answering those questions. The lunch hour came and went, and there was no way the staff wasn’t gossiping. Terrance had been sent back inside, and Cayden was holding Trixie’s hand in full view of the open bay doors. Though they’d been discreet, Cayden didn’t know how much the staff had suspected about his relationship with Trixie.
They had to go through the whole thing all over again when Mr. Jones arrived. If Trixie hadn’t been at his side the whole time, Cayden had no doubt that the famous Russo temper would have made its presence known. Instead, he leaned on her.
He hated this. Hated the whole thing. The cops weren’t grateful he’d called them. As soon as he’d told them his record, they’d looked at him with an air of caution. To them, despite the fact that he had been the one to call them, he was a suspect. They likely thought he’d only called them to cover his tracks at Bucky’s unexpected appearance or that the whole thing was some elaborate ruse to trick them. Cayden just had to stand there and grip Trixie’s hand as a reminder that he’d done nothing wrong.
A tow truck had come and gone for the Royce, which had been confirmed as stolen.
“Are we done?” Trixie finally asked. She’d been such a trooper. Cayden had no idea how he was going to make this up to her.
Orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms.
The officers finally nodded. “We’ll be in touch.” They handed Trixie one of their business cards and shook her hand. They didn’t offer Cayden the same courtesy.
Once a biker, always a biker, he thought cynically.
As soon as the black and white was out of the parking lot, Trixie stepped in front of Cayden. She was still gripping his hand, as she had for the last several hours, and placed her other on his cheek. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he promised before thinking better of it. What if she asked him to give her some space? He didn’t know if he could do that.
“I need you to take a deep breath. You are fine. I am fine. We,” she emphasized, “are fine. I am not angry with you and I do not hate you. In fact, I’m quite proud of you right now.”
He flinched. “You shouldn’t be. I wasted your whole damn day with this stunt.”
“You did not. You did the right thing, no matter how annoying or,” she made a face, “aggravating those two were. At the end of the day, that’s all I can ask of you.”
“Cayden.” The couple turned towards Mr. Wynn. “I’m sorry, son, but I have to take you back to the house.”
He stiffened. “Why?”
Mr. Wynn had the good sense to look guilty. “This was a work incident. Until it’s been reviewed, you’re under house arrest.”
“No!” The men turned to Trixie at her exclaim. “That’s not fair!”
“Fair or not,” Mr. Jones interjected, “it’s the law.”
Cayden deflated in defeat. Ten weeks. He just had to make it ten more weeks.
“You can’t send him back to jail!” Trixie squeezed his hand so tight he feared she was going to hurt herself. Her other hand looped around his arm, and she clung to him like he was her lifeline.
God, he didn’t know if he should be thrilled or pissed by her reaction. She shouldn’t have been subjected to this day at all. This was his fault, his doing, his darkness. Trixie was too good for him. Even Cayden 2.0 wasn’t worthy of her.
He carefully ungripped her hand from his arm and then removed his hand from hers. He bent to kiss her fingertips. “I’ll be fine, baby. They have no cause to send me back to jail. I am just under house arrest until they verify that I didn’t break parole. It’s stupid and it’s aggravating, but it’s what has to happen.” He cupped her cheek, loving how she cradled her head into the caress. “I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Actually.” They both stiffened at Mr. Jones’s voice. “With it being so late on a Thursday, they likely won’t get to review your case until Monday, which means any furlough passes will be revoked.”
“No!” Trixie shouted again. “You can’t do that!”
Mr. Wynn approached her. “I’m sorry, Trix. I have to.”
“But—”
He stopped her protest with a look. “It’s the law, Trix. Don’t fight it. You’ll only hurt yourself or Cayden further.”
At those words, Trixie clamped her mouth shut. She closed her eyes, but Cayden had seen her tears welling up. He leaned forward to kiss her lids, her nose, and then her lips.
Looking over at Mr. Wynn, he asked, “Can I go inside and get my stuff?” He indicated to his coveralls. “I should change too.”
Mr. Wynn nodded. “Of course.”
“I’ll need to go with you,” Mr. Jones added.
Cayden let out a long sigh. Grounded and a chaperone. Yeah, she definitely deserved better than him.
Trixie had put off confronting her employees by taking the coward’s way out: she just didn’t show up for Friday morning’s staff meeting. Everyone seemed to know to keep their distance from her. Even Jeff and Joey skirted around her. For the first time in her life, working on a car did nothing to calm her nerves. There was a pit forming in her stomach, and it just kept gnawing its way bigger.
House arrest meant that Cayden had lost his phone and visitor privileges, along with his weekend furlough. The closest they had come to talking since she’d watched him being driven away in Greg’s truck was her calling the house phone and talking to Peggy while Peggy talked to Cayden. There was nothing sexy about having your surrogate aunt tell your boyfriend you missed him.
It was like he’d taken a part of her away with him. Their separation this time was different from when he’d had to go back to the house midweek. It felt…forced. Like she was as much under house arrest as he was. She wasn’t even allowed over at the Wynns’ to see him.
God help her, she couldn’t get the question out of her mind if this pain was worth it. They had ten weeks to go and his parole term was over. What if this happened again? What if they found some loophole that proved he’d broken his parole and he was taken back to jail?
Losing AJ had been terrible. But losing Cayden? It was unthinkable. Even just the mental question made her nauseous and her heart felt ready to explode.
Saturday was long and quiet. At least on Friday, though she’d ignored everyone, there’d been the hustle and bustle of the standard workday to keep her distracted. Saturday was a test of her endurance. They should be lying naked in bed together eating the strawberries and whipped cream she’d picked up for them earlier in the week. Instead, Trixie found herself on her bed, alone and dressed, with the can of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a tub of Rocky Road ice cream.
She knew Cayden well enough to know he was worried about her. He was likely also wondering if this pain was worth it, but she knew he wasn’t caring about his pain. He’d only be concerned for hers. This was the first real test of their relationship. Up until now, they had been in a blissful honeymoon phase. His parole terms had been there, but they’d been little quirks they could work around. Having Cayden forced under house arrest was different. It wasn’t something she’d agreed to when she’d started dating him.
The shop was too quiet. It hadn’t been this quiet since the weekends had become their private break from reality. Cayden had filled her life with laughter and joy. She’d fallen for him faster than a cartoon anvil off of a ledge.
Was the pain worth it? Yes. Because her prize at the end of the road was Cayden Russo. Mr. Cocky Biker. She’d known who he was from the beginning. This was a mere bump in the road. Ten weeks from now, it would all be worth it. She had to believe that because, if she didn’t, she didn’t know what she was fighting for anymore.
AJ had been taken from her. She refused to lose Cayden too.
The whole house knew to keep their distance from Cayden. The news of his house arrest had spread through his housemates like wildfire. He didn’t give a damn. They could speculate and say whatever the hell they wanted. Geordi was the only one who’d offered him a bit of compassion. Unfortunately for Geordi, Cayden had not been in the mood to reciprocate.
He’d missed dinner on Thursday and breakfast on Friday. Mrs. Wynn stayed home with him and had forced him out of his room by a tight grip on his earlobe to eat lunch with her. Rather than join in on Friday’s dinner, he’d remained in his room sulking like a grounded child.
God, he missed Trixie. No matter how many times he told himself that his house arrest wasn’t fair, it didn’t change a thing. It was what it was. He just had to endure. Not being able to talk to her was the worst. The phone call Mrs. Wynn had relayed for them Thursday evening hadn’t been good enough. He missed her voice, her laugh. He should have hugged her and kissed her just one more time before they’d been separated. Deep down, he knew better. No matter how many one-more-times there were, it would never be enough.
Mrs. Wynn sent Geordi up to Cayden’s room on Saturday to guilt him into coming downstairs. Cayden had grumbled, but as Mrs. Wynn well knew, he wouldn’t say no. Geordi’s innocence was too sincere to risk hurting. She’d brought them a snack of Oreo cookies and milk to the living room where Geordi and Cayden were watching cartoons. Or rather, where Geordi watched and Cayden sat next to him moping. When Mrs. Wynn asked how he was doing, Cayden could only grumble, “Well played,” in answer.
She acted like she hadn’t heard him.
Cayden had joined Geordi at the dinner table that evening but he didn’t have the stomach to eat. Food didn’t taste right. The other residents had the good sense to leave him be, but Geordi chatted nonstop to him. Cayden was torn between listening as a distraction or yelling at Geordi to shut up, but Mrs. Wynn’s warning glare caught him just in time and Cayden clamped his mouth shut.
He knew he was making the house’s atmosphere miserable that weekend. He just couldn’t bring himself to care. He was frustrated and trying desperately not to blow a fuse, or fall into a pit of despair and self-pity. He’d done the right thing! He served his time, he left the MC. Would he always be punished for who he was and never accepted for who he was trying to be?
Mr. Wynn dragged Cayden outside to do yardwork on Sunday. While the tasks were physically exerting, they gave his mind too much time to wander. He needed a task that would take up his thoughts as well as his body. Which was how, after raking the lawn, cutting the grass, weeding Mrs. Wynn’s garden, and trimming the hedges, Cayden had found himself under the hood of Mr. Wynn’s truck that evening.
The distinct sound of Mr. Jones’s Camry caught his attention, but Cayden didn’t turn from his task. Upon leaving the house on Thursday, Mr. Jones had promised to do his best to push Cayden’s case to the top of the list prior to the weekend. He’d also said he’d be in touch. This was the first time Cayden had seen or heard from Mr. Jones since. It was now Sunday. Three full days later. Cayden was in no mood for Mr. Jones to tell him that his case was still under review or that he didn’t think sulking around the house was healthy.
Mr. Jones leaned under the hood next to him. “You know, it amazes me how you can do that. I still have no idea where to put my windshield washer fluid.”
Cayden didn’t know if the man was joking but had a hard time believing anyone could miss the colored cap with the picture of the windshield wipers on it. Then again, much like computers stumped him, the mechanics of cars stumped a lot of people.
“I wanted to let you know in person. I was able to get your case reviewed by a judge.”
“On the weekend?” Cayden didn’t know if he should be impressed or not.
“Let’s just say I called in a favor.” Mr. Jones shrugged. “I also owe the man a bottle of Scotch.”
Cayden was too pissed to be patient for conversation. “And?” he prompted.
Mr. Jones gave him an exasperated look. Then he took Cayden by the shoulders and spun him around.
There in Mr. and Mrs. Wynn’s driveway stood Trixie.
The wrench fell through his fingers and clattered to the cement. Fuck, it had only been three days, but she was breathtaking. She stood in a pair of yoga pants, a white tank that had a massive grease stain, and her work boots with her hair thrown up into a messy pony. She was fucking beautiful.
Mr. Jones leaned in. “You’re welcome.”
Trixie took a tentative step forward, and that was all he needed. He ran to her. She wrapped herself around him in that special way only she did. Her arms and legs held him tight and her face buried in his neck. Fuck, she felt exquisite, smelled even better.
He could feel her tears and it broke his heart. He had not been the only one to feel the effects of their separation.
Cayden carried her inside the garage. He didn’t see Mr. Jones leave, only noting that his rehabilitation officer was no longer there. He placed her back against Mr. Wynn’s truck on the passenger side. Slowly he lifted her face off of him so he could see those milk chocolate eyes he loved so much.
Her wet cheeks killed him. He carefully wiped her tears away with his thumbs. He opened his mouth with the intent to bare his heart and soul to her, but she was too quick. Trixie claimed his lips, and speech was no longer possible.
She fit against him like she was his missing puzzle piece. Her breasts pressed up against his hard chest, her legs wrapped around his hips. He was dying to be inside her, but she deserved better than a quick fuck up against Mr. Wynn’s truck in his garage where anyone could walk in on them. Not that Cayden’s dick seemed to care about any of that. It was straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He regretted going commando now.
Her hands left his shoulders to squeeze between them. Fuck, she had his jeans undone and his dick in her hand before he could contemplate what she was doing. Oh, he’d give his left kidney for a condom right then.
“Wait, wait…” He managed to get out. Fuck, why was he stopping this again? Right, condom. “Baby, we can’t—”
The relief in her eyes at seeing him had been replaced with pure desire. She reached into her tank top and pulled out a foil square from between her breasts.
She didn’t need to ask him twice. “You are wonderful, amazing, and beautiful,” he told her before devouring her mouth.
Her yoga pants were the biggest issue. She had to release her hold on his hips so he could wiggle the band down and off her right leg. He trailed his knuckles through her wet folds, needing no more than that to know she was ready to take him.
His pants around his ankles and hers hanging off of her left around her boot, he took her up against Mr. Wynn’s truck. It was fast and quick, redefining his personal definition of premature. But it was needed. They were connected once again in the most primal of ways, reassuring both of them that the other was really there.
Their separation had been hell, but their reunion was pure heaven.
They were thankfully sated and dressed by the time Mr. Wynn came out to see the progress of his truck. He found them sitting on the garage floor with Cayden’s back to the front passenger wheel and Trixie cradled between his knees. The knowing look Mr. Wynn gave them said that he was aware Cayden’s house arrest had been terminated and he was not surprised in the least to see Trixie there.
As he walked them inside for dinner, Mr. Wynn told Trixie he’d give her a ride back home once it was curfew. “So long as your boyfriend fixes whatever he messed up on it.”
Cayden scoffed but Trixie laughed. God, he’d missed that sound.
He was unable to release her hand during dinner. He ignored the kissy faces, the winks, the catcalls, and the innuendos from his housemates. Trixie was back, and he was no longer under house arrest. All was right in his world.
Weekend curfew demanded that Trixie leave by eight o’clock. Cayden had a hard time letting her go. He was quite tempted to try to sneak her up to his room for the night. It seemed everyone was anticipating that move, and they hadn’t been out of Mr. Wynn’s sight since seven-thirty.
Finally, Cayden had to accept that she had to go home, and he had to go back up to his room like a horny teen.
“You’ll see me tomorrow,” she told him again. They were by the house’s front door. Mr. Wynn was sitting on the living room couch in full view of them with a newspaper in front of his unmoving eyes.
Cayden stood before her, their hands laced, his right knee between her legs. Christ, he still couldn’t believe he’d taken her against Mr. Wynn’s truck with the garage door open. Anyone could have seen them. And she’d initiated it! It was exceedingly hot and utterly reckless.
He didn’t want to let her go, but he wanted to give her something of his. Cayden asked her to wait while he ran up to his room. They only had a few minutes before curfew so he needed to be quick. She’d clung to his hands as he’d pulled away.
Up in his room, Cayden rushed over to his dresser and pulled out the only thing of value he owned. Keeping it clutched in his hand, he ran back to the top of the stairs in time to see Mr. Wynn and Trixie exiting the door.
“Wait!” he called, running down the steps. His eyes were only on Trixie. Something had changed in hers, though. The light that had been in them when he’d gone upstairs was now dull, wild. She looked panicked. “What happened?” he demanded.
Had one of the house residents done or said something to her? Shit, he shouldn’t have left her alone. The damn present could have waited.
Trixie, though, shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“What happened?” he repeated. He was going to filet whoever put that unnerved look in her eyes.
Mr. Wynn cleared his throat and said he’d bring the truck down the drive. Cayden could care less about the damn truck, though he appreciated the privacy the act offered.
Cayden reached for her, but to his disbelief, she stepped back. The fuck? “Trix, what—”
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, nothing happened. I’m just tired, I guess. I should go.”
She turned to leave, but Cayden quickly grabbed her arm with the hand that wasn’t holding her gift. “You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he warned. “We’re both adults here. Use your words and tell me what happened.” When she started to shake her head again, Cayden cursed. “Damn it, woman. I’ve seen you naked, I’ve been inside you. There’s nothing you should be hiding from me. Tell me what happened.”
Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked over her shoulder at Mr. Wynn waiting in his truck for her on the side of the road. “Really, Cayden, everything’s fine. I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek rather than his lips. That right there told him something was wrong. “Good night,” she added hastily, like she had to remember to say it.
Trapped once again in this damn house, he watched her go. Fuck, what the hell had happened?
Cayden didn’t get an answer to that question until Tuesday evening. Work had been…tense, to say the least. All of the employees skated around Trixie and Cayden like they had leprosy. Cayden could care less what they thought of him but didn’t like seeing them treat Trixie that way. Worse, she was acting like he was patient zero of the contagion. They hadn’t kissed or touched since her quick peck on the cheek Sunday evening. She hadn’t answered any of his phone calls and had ignored all of his text messages.
Cayden was approaching his wit’s end on Tuesday evening when he heard a small sniffle coming from Geordi’s room. Concerned, Cayden knocked before entering the open door. Geordi was sitting in the far corner of the room with his arms wrapped around his legs and his head against his knees.
“Hey,” Cayden approached him. He sat down cross-legged across from Geordi. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong? Do you want me to get Mrs. Wynn?”
The man with a kid’s innocence shook his head against his arms. His shoulders shook violently, making Cayden worry. He was in the process of getting up to get Mrs. Wynn anyway when he heard Geordi say, “I think I messed up.”
Cayden sat back down. “How so?”
People were likely to assume that Geordi had messed up, but Cayden knew that Geordi tended to think he did without actually doing so. It was little things that tended to upset Geordi, like forgetting to rinse a plate off before putting it in the dishwasher or putting his socks in the laundry basket inside out.
“I told Ms. Trixie what you said.”
Cayden’s heart skipped a beat. That had not been what he’d expected Geordi to say. “What do you mean? What did I say when?”
Geordi raised his head, which was good because his words were no longer muffled. Tears flowed freely down Geordi’s cheeks. It was so hard to see him as anything more than a giant kid. He was almost six-feet tall, but his personality overruled his large frame. “Mr. Wynn told Mrs. Wynn tonight that Ms. Trixie was still really upset, and I know it’s my fault.”
Impatient to know what Geordi had told Trixie that he’d said, Cayden encouraged, “Geordi, tell me what you said.”
He picked at a loose string in his jeans. “I thought it was good news. I thought she’d be happy for me.”
“Geordi!” he called louder than he should. Lowering his voice, Cayden forced himself to say calmly, “I’m not mad. Just tell me what you said to her.”
He wiped his eyes. “I told Ms. Trixie that you said I could be your best man.”
Cayden’s jaw dropped. “Well, fuck.”
